


Civilians

by herbailiwick



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Manicures & Pedicures, Spa Treatments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2527256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was prompted: "Sam having a spa day!"</p><p>Takes place either between 5x04 and 5x07 or between 5x07 and 5x10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Civilians

"You gonna stop mopin'?"

"I'm not—" Sam protested from behind the big tome he was leafing through, but Bobby shook his head gently at the protest. He wouldn't blame Sam for moping, but it wasn't practical at the current moment. Sam didn't have all the facts.

"I know you like guns too, kid." Sam shrugged. "I told him I didn't think you'd be interested, but that was a lie, see?"

Sam raised a brow.

"I may have discovered something about myself, sitting in this chair."

"And that something was...?"

"The spa," Bobby said too seriously. Sam wasn't sure he'd heard him right.

"Did you say, uh...?" 

"The spa. Yes." Fluffy bathrobe? Facials? Those...cucumbers Sam'd rather eat? What things did they even do there? Sam's lip quirked up without him even realizing. Bobby, massaged, scrubbed clean with, like...seaweed, or mud, or whatever piece of nature they could try to wrap around a human form for a price. It was precious.

"So, let's go before I find some spell to make you forget the whole conversation."

"Let's?" Sam asked with surprise, then cautiously pointed out, "You'd never cast a spell on me," his tone teasing, but something genuinely concerned in the statement, his gaze watchful.

"Never," Bobby agreed. "I want to be honest with you. Even unfortunate truth is still better than a pretty lie. Unless you're lying to the cops or civilians. But, yeah, I meant 'let's'. It's a date. Okay? Got everything set up for us."

Sam raised an eyebrow and considered what it would be like to go to a spa with Bobby.

"Seriously, don't judge," Bobby said, actually getting a little uncomfortable. "I mean, I figure this way you can help pull your weight a little, too. By pulling my weight, I mean. I promise you'll like it, at least some of it." 

"Bobby, you know I'm always up for a date. You just usually aren't."

"I like staying in. What can I say?" He looked around at his cluttered place, mildly embarrassed. "Only gotten worse since the chair. Do you know how many places have inadequate wheelchair accessibility?"

"I do! It's awful!" Sam agreed readily. He'd seen pictures, heard first person account horror stories. Bobby smiled quietly at the response.

"Yeah. I guess you  _would_ know. This place is great for that, though. No stairs or anything. I don't really need your help," he assured. "I just like you."

Sam smiled. "I just like you too."

***

"I hate you," Sam said, squirming uncomfortably at the woman's touch.

"I didn't know your feet were so damn sensitive, princess. Information to file away for later, I guess."

The woman working on Sam's feet looked up at him, concerned.

"It's fine," Sam said. "I can tell you're being really gentle. Not your fault. If I wanted you to stop, I'd let you know. Sorry. I'll shut up."

She waited a moment before continuing, accepting his explanation and apology. 

"I liked the massage," Sam admitted. 

"Wish I could do that more often," Bobby agreed. "I'm getting old. And cabin fever's taking over with this chair situation. I gotta take care of myself."

"That's what I've been saying. I guess we have Meg to thank."

"True. I used the knife myself, but she knew you had a thing for me," Bobby teased.

The woman was looking up at Sam and Bobby curiously.

"Our matchmaker," Sam said, rolling his eyes. Technically, she was the reason they'd gotten in touch with Bobby again, which had led to different feelings than the two of them had ever felt before regarding each other. Stepping in front of Bobby had helped. So had when Bobby saved Sam after she had possessed him.

"I'd like to thank her personally," Bobby said, and Sam knew exactly what he meant. Bobby wanted her dead. He definitely agreed. 

"Have a feeling we'll see her soon," Sam commented. "This party's just getting started."

"We've already had our first big name."

Sam reached over, took Bobby's hand. They were both wearing soft, white robes. "No matter how this party goes, I'm glad we're working on it together. Okay? You're helping. You are."

"What kind of party is this?" The girl working on Bobby's feet asked. 

"Uh," Bobby hesitated, then they both said, "Farewell party."

They glanced at each other. Sam gripped Bobby's hand a little tighter.

***

They lounged in the living room, relaxed, refreshed, out hundreds of dollars of Bobby's money, with no regrets except that Dean was about to be back and the world was going to end sooner rather than later.

As Dean described guns and the sharpshooting feats he'd witnessed, Sam was a little jealous. But he felt good. He felt... _clean_. And relaxed. And kind of...likeable. He felt refreshed, maybe, which was nice, after having started the "party" as an addict who was in with the wrong crowd.

Sam looked at Dean and Bobby, his crowd. They were gonna be okay, as okay as anyone else. Well, until Lucifer threatened to take him over again, but...he was trying not to think too hard about that yet.

As soon as Dean started the shower running, Sam walked over to Bobby to give him a big kiss. "Thanks for sharing that with me," he said. "Some of it was uncomfortable, but I liked it."

"You deserve it," Bobby said simply. "Thanks for giving it a shot." 

"I don't want to be a vessel," Sam said, body still pretty relaxed, the words just pouring out without too much self-doubt slowing them down. "I didn't go with you to get gussied up for Lucifer."

"I know. I'll do what I can to help. In the chair, granted, that ain't much. And I'm old. But he doesn't know what we're capable of, right?"

"I feel old too," Sam admitted. Bobby reached for his hand.

"I heard about Raphael's vessel. We won't let that be Dean. We won't let that be you. I'd give up my arms to to the Devil too before I'd let it."

Sam leaned down and hugged Bobby, resting his head on the handle of the chair. It wasn't an empty statement. Bobby had always been the most giving person in Sam's life, with the exception of one young monster who had actually killed her own mother for him. That was a one-time, spur of the moment deal, of course, and Bobby gave often, if in smaller ways, but it still stood as the biggest sacrifice he'd received.

Bobby and Sam gave to Dean, but they gave to each other perhaps more deeply. It was hard to have too deep of a relationship from Dean; Sam knew that for a fact after 25 years. Dean could be your favorite, could be your focus, but depth wasn't going to happen like you thought it would.

Sam only pulled back when the water from the shower stopped.

"We'll go again sometime, before that 'party'," Bobby said.

"Maybe. Maybe not," Sam said. "But we'll go on another date, at least."

Bobby raised a brow at the statement. "Okay," he agreed.

"Us rescuing each other from peril doesn't count," Sam clarified.

"We'll see," teased Bobby. "I mean, if Meg was our matchmaker and all."

"I stand by that. It's fucked up, maybe, but I do." 

"It's an unfortunate truth," Bobby smiled.

They were still smiling about it when Dean came in to see what they were watching.


End file.
